Deprivation
by Lif61
Summary: While trying to meet up with Maggie, Jack is taken captive, and is left tied up in a basement for days. His hope runs out.


**A/N: Written for one-word whump prompts on tumblr: deprived + restraints.**

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Days. Days had passed and still Jack hadn't been fed. He'd hardly been given any water, just enough to keep him alive. And light was something he sorely missed. Human interaction, _kindness_ , was something he sorely missed.

He'd been out on his own, having told Maggie he would meet up with her somewhere, when he'd been taken.

He didn't know what had him, whether it was a demon or some kind of monster, but it had tied him up in an intricate way and left him in this dark basement. His body had begun to ache after a few minutes, muscles burning with strain.

Sleep barely came to him while he was like this, everything screaming and aching too much, his muscles feeling like they were being torn and pulverized from how he was tied up. Jack was delirious, he figured, and there was no hope of escape for him.

He'd known that as soon as the ropes had been put on him.

There was a harness of them around his chest, his arms folded across his chest, hands touching the elbows of the opposite arm. Then his wrists were attached to the harness. He'd been thrown on the floor, forced to sit, legs bruised as he was put cross-legged, ankles lashed together, shins at right angles to each other, legs forced far apart. Jack had thought this would be the end of this awkward ordeal, but then the ankle rope had been attached to the ones at his chest, the pull of the thick material forcing his legs up. The ropes had been tucked in and pulled taut till he was unable to straighten his back, ankles flush against his chest, making it hard to breathe, to do much of anything. Another rope had been secured around his neck, connected to a chain link in the wall.

After a few minutes it had been uncomfortable, and then the discomfort grew into searing, tugging. Now his back was aching so much he was sweating, his legs feeling as if they'd never be right again. Jack just wanted to stop existing at this point, his body having reached its capacity for suffering.

His stomach was trying to devour itself, and it felt like there was a hole deep inside him, destroying him, pangs striking through him in debilitating waves. His tongue was thick in his mouth, throat dry and scratchy. His head ached… everything ached.

Jack imagined his mom was with him. Maybe she was. Maybe he was dying.

She was sitting beside him, running a hand through his sweaty and greasy hair, and he could somehow see her even though it was dark in this basement.

"It's okay, Jack," she told him, voice soft, a smile on her face. "I'm here. I'm going to take care of you."

He opened his mouth to try and say something, but only a distressed moan came out. She held his face in her hands, murmuring, "Sh… Sh… You're doing amazing, sweetie. You're doing just great. You can do this."

 _I can't,_ Jack thought to himself, shedding a few tears, his body releasing such precious water.

No, no! He didn't want to cry! He needed that water!

He was too weak to cry, his incomprehensibly sore body heaving as a sob left him.

 _I can't do it, Mommy._ _I can't do it._

Jack couldn't breathe, felt like everything was spinning, and then his mom was holding his shoulder in a firm grip. The ropes were coming off of him.

Jack blearily opened his eyes, only, it wasn't his mom with him.

It was Dean, one of his dads.

Light streamed through the basement door, hurting his eyes, making them water, and Jack continued to sob in relief.

The ropes were hurriedly cut off of him, and then slowly, slowly, Dean was unfolding his body from the position it had been stuck in, Jack crying out with each movement. All of him throbbed and felt like it'd never be right ever again. He was swollen and sore and bruised and he wanted it all to stop.

Dean's roughened hands were gentle, telling him he was doing great as he continued to lay him back against the cold stone wall. It felt like a hammer was driving against his spine in various places, and he found himself whimpering.

"Don't worry. I'm gonna take care of you," he told him, taking his jacket off and wrapping it around his shoulders.

He straightened it so it wouldn't fall off of him, and then he started going through the bag he had with him. Dean held a water bottle to his mouth, and Jack gratefully parted his lips. Dean had a hand under his chin, helping to hold his head up and back so he could drink. Some of the water dribbled past his lips, and he panicked, but was too exhausted to move.

"It's okay," Dean coaxed, as if he knew what was going on in his head. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Jack tried drinking it quickly, gulping the water down, and Dean lifted the water bottle past his lips. Jack groaned.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay. Just can't take it in all at once. You'll get yourself sick that way."

He let Jack have a few more wonderfully cold, refreshing drops, and then set the water bottle down. Jack wanted to reach for it, but spasms were working their way through each of his muscle groups, and he wasn't sure what part of him hurt more, needed more attention.

Jack didn't have to worry about it seeing as Dean was breaking off a bit of a nutrition bar and putting it into his mouth, doing what he could to take care of him.

"Here, eat this," he told him.

Jack did as he said, each movement slow and painstaking. A sound of complaint left him, and he was so frustrated he couldn't articulate what he wanted. Dean seemed to understand and put the water bottle to his lips again, helping him drink.

They stayed like that, Dean having him finish the water bottle and the nutrition bar, and then another before he even began to help Jack to his feet.

Jack was crying out, muscles shaking as he held onto his dad with everything he had, not wanting to fall onto the floor.

"Come on, kid," his dad said. "You got this."

Jack wanted to nod, but that would use what little energy he had left.

He didn't remember getting up the stairs, only remembered spots swimming in his vision, darkness, feeling miserable past the point of anything he had thought was possible.

Then he was in the passenger seat of his dad's car, and Dean was soothingly rubbing his leg.

"It's okay, Jack. I'm taking you home. I'm gonna get you all fixed up. You're gonna be just fine."


End file.
